Burgers, Black Tea, and Syrup, Oh My!
by aquavis
Summary: America has a crush on England who has a crush on Canada who has a crush on America. WHAT NOW? Based on a prompt from a friend.


A/N: I do not own Hetalia.

--

_Oh no._

_Oh no oh no oh no, no._

_This can't be happening!_

"Just relax, Matthew."

_Oh god, it is._

_He's cornered me and he's… he's…!_

_Oh god, __**mon dieu**__! _

"What's wrong? Want me to go slower?"

_No, you fuckin' drunk hoser! Get your fuckin' hand away from me!_

"I-I…" _Why the __**hell **__can't I talk?_

"So you like it so far."

_Wipe that fuckin' grin off of your face you pervert! There's nothing to be proud of! Nothing at all, you hear me? __**Nothing**__! I don't care about your report! I don't care about your economic climate! I don't care about your reading comprehension skills!_

"I hope it's informative." Arthur places his papers on the table, and reaches for his tea. "I worked _all night long_ on it."

_**Did he just squeeze my thigh?!**_

The teacup sits haphazardly on its saucer, the steamy liquid within it dribbling over its rim.

It's only any minute now before…

_Holy fucking moose balls! _

"Oh," He says, lathering it in a faux apologetic tone. "I'm sorry; did I spill my tea on you?"

_Ah!_

_Crisse, it burns, it fucking burns!_

"We'll just have to clean that up, won't we?"

There's a big spot of tea over my crotch; right where Arthur's fingers are slowly caressing as they make their way to my zipper.

"Arthur!" I yell, prying his hands from my trousers. "What the hell are you doing?"

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk still gracing his face. "You can't walk around with a stain all over your pants!"

_You'd better fucking believe it I will!_

I stand up, trying not to wince at the pain in my vital regions. "I-I've got to go. Gotta go change."

Arthur stands up as well, placing his teacup on the table. "But we've still got a few minutes before they want us back!" He grabs onto my sleeve, pulling me back. "And I never see you anymore, what with you becoming a great nation and all..."

_You see me every time we have a meeting and you don't even remember my name half the fucking time! _

He grabs at my blazer, dragging me towards him. "I miss you, you know..." He continues as he leans in closer. I can definitely smell something (Rum, perhaps?) in his breath. "You're so… isolated from me… all the way over there."

"I-isolated?" I stutter, my cheeks reddening. He's dragging his other hand over my collar, fingers trailing down my chest.

_Newsflash: There's a fucking ocean between us!_

"But you were always my favourite," Arthur cocks his head, his tongue darting along his upper lip. "Always so good to me…" His grip tightens, pulling me almost nose to nose with him. "Much better than that slimy, stupid git-"

"What the fuck is going on?" Someone screams as the door bangs against the wall.

Arthur lets go, and we both spin around, face flustered and mind scattered.

"A-Alfred?" I cry, feet already in motion towards him.

_Alfred! Thank god!_

"Arthur," Alfred says, his voice sharp. "What are you doing to Matthew?"

_Oh god, I love you __**so**__ much right now. You have no idea._

Arthur crosses his arms, obviously not amused with the turn of events. "What does it matter to you?"

Alfred turns to me, narrowing his eyes. "Matthew, leave."

My face sinks. I look from Arthur (who is utterly displeased) to Alfred (who is currently smirking in some demented form).

_What? Why? That old pervert should be the one leaving and not me!_

"But-But!"

"I said leave!" There is rage evident in his voice.

_Fine then! Have it your way!_

I slip out, closing the door behind me with a shaking fist.

_Douche bag. I can't believe I love you. _

I lean my back into the door, sighing as I remove my blazer, folding it over my arm to cover the stain on my trousers.

From where I am, I can hear the yelling, almost muffled as if pushed through the crevices of their teeth, and the pounding, things being spilt carelessly onto the floor as Alfred gets his way once again.

I bite my tongue, using all the force in my body not to open the door.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can't believe you._

I look away, pushing myself to think of something different, of anything, anything at all.

There's a shadow on the ground.

Now a voice, gentle and quiet. "Matthieu?" it whispers, turning his head down the hallway. "Matthieu, are you alright?"

I wipe away a rogue tear and arch my back. "Ah," I reply, shuffling towards him. I can't lie to him. "Of course. Is it already time again?"

Francis urges a smile, drawing his lips tightly. "I was just worried," He looks to the door I was leaning against and then looks back. "Angleterre took you, and I just needed to make sure he didn't feed you any of his atrocious cooking."

I give a smile back as I brush past him. "Thanks." I answer, "I'm fine though." I look to my watch. "The meeting should start any minute now. We should go."

Francis turns around, following in suit of me. "Yeah," He says, his voice distant. He runs his hands through his hair. "They're waiting."

--

For a friend who is so totally awesome that this will blow her mind when complete. ;D.


End file.
